I'm only posting this to traumatize Bee. And myself. But mostly Bee. Also, here you go, Steph.
So, lately I've been kind of up in my eyeballs in Avengers fic (well, Marvel Adventures, Ultimate, whatever the fuck you want to call it, as long as it has Tony Stark in it, I'm good) and I've been metaing all over the place with my ladies about how Tony Stark is frankly kind of an amazing character. Especially for comics since, well. When they do it right, they get it fucking right, but in between they just get it so wrong I want to spork my eyes out, but no matter. I tried explaining to Bee that Tony is like Bruce Wayne if Bruce Wayne was interesting, but she all but slapped me when I did, so...
Anyway, that led to a conversation I had with Steph about a week ago about why I find Tony so interesting and both she and Bee were like, "Well, fucking DUH, he's like every character you've ever written, up to and including the emotional trauma." And, well, yeah. Especially Shea (the main character of Pretty Little Monsters, the '08 NaNo neurotic breakdown, if you recall) is kind of like a mini-Tony, only not so lonely, and what if Shea was actually Tony's son, wouldn't that be hilarious? And then Steph told me to WRITE IT, and she was very forceful about it, so here we are.
Not!fic about Tony Stark in possession of a child. Lot's of rambling, OCs and epithets because I couldn't for the life of me get Tony Stark to actually pronounce Shea's name. It was supposed to be longer and maybe involve plot, and also Steve/Tony, but I got 5k in and gave up so it kind of peters out into nowhere. Pre-slash, kidfic, mention of drug and alcohol abuse in a rather glib, I-Am-Dealing-With-This-And-Spectacularly-Failing kind of way. Aggressively unbetaed. I apologize in advance.
Tony Stark was many things. A genius, certainly. A playboy, a wonderchild, a pain in the ass, a drunk, a narcissist, sure, he could admit that. In possession of filial feeling was not one of them. Howard hadn’t been the best of fathers, and it was really a testament of Tony’s own skills of denial that he understated it that much, and Tony wasn’t really in the habit of caring for other people.
So when an ex-- not even girlfriend really, more like an ex-one-night-stand, or an ex-seven-minutes-in-heaven-stand, really, showed up on his doorstep with a bundle she claimed was his and told him to take care of his own fucking messes, he was somewhat unprepared. He had drunk himself into a stupor for a week after that, and Pepper had spent it hating his guts. When he came back to it, the baby -- a tiny, blackhaired tot with an impressively unamused green stare -- had been whisked away to parts unknown and Pepper was threatening to tender her resignation. Tony had managed to convince her to stay, if for nothing else than that you couldn’t possibly leave Tony Stark (especially that Tony Stark, the Tony Stark who was still shy of his thirtieth birthday and didn’t have a responsible bone in his body, that Tony Stark) with a minor and imagine it would end well.
The kid was his, though. Tony had run so many tests on the kid, it was amazing he didn’t have permanent needle marks all over his tiny, chubby arms, but he was certain. The kid was his, 50% Stark and a 100% trouble.
It was perhaps redundant to explain that he and the kid hadn’t had the best of times. Tony was a neglectful father at his best, the kid was an unholy terror before he could even walk, and he didn’t trust Tony at all. Respect, even less. Tony had spent the following years guiltily hating him -- he was just a kid, after all -- but he was also... well, Tony’s kid, a Stark, a pain in the ass, a terror beyond knowing, a judge, jury and executioner when it came to Tony’s every fault. And worst of all, he had proved everyone right. Tony was a shitty father -- possibly worse than Howard, and didn’t that sting? -- and this kid (his son) never failed to demonstrate it. Tony spent as much time as possible avoiding him.
The kid was impossible to avoid, though, because the moment he was old enough to understand, he was also old enough to be underfoot. And he had a way to be underfoot like nobody Tony had ever known. He talked his way into JARVIS’s graces, Pepper adored him, though she’d never say it, Happy thought he was adorable, and Rhodey took the kid to baseball games and generally acted like an awesome uncle. It made Tony feel even worse, even more like a failure.
Maybe it would have been easier if the kid hadn’t also had about a gazillion friends. They were all over the damn place, all eight of them, and Tony couldn’t for the life of him remember when he had this many friends -- seven best friends, who did that? -- but the most annoying one was a half feral girl he had all but forced Tony to adopt.
And then had come the Drug Debacle, and Tony had felt Pepper’s disappointed looks from across the country. He really preferred not to think about that, if at all possible. He had no idea a 16 year old boy could look as small as the kid had done there. It had torn at Tony’s heart like nothing else had ever done, and he didn’t know what to do with those feelings. So he had run, all the way to Malibu. The kid had let him be, for once.
Then was Afghanistan and the artificial heart, and all of a sudden his Malibu place was full of kid. Several kids, actually, including the feral one Tony pretended he didn’t feel any affection for whatsoever.
Which led up to the current situation, with Iron Man. The kid had taken one look at the headlines, then glared at Tony -- both of them still uncomfortably underweight from their various misadventures -- and said, “Seriously, Dad, that’s just a shitty costume. Red and gold? What were you thinking?”
Tony had no idea how the kid figured it out that fast.
“It’s gold titanium alloy and hot rod red, thank you,” he said with as much dignity as he could muster and had gone to pour himself a drink. The kid had rolled his eyes.
“It’s still ugly as fuck,” he pronounced firmly and Tony’s shoulders twitched irritably. “Also, I have no idea how you move with those shin covers. I could design something better in my sleep. I think I have.”
“Look, who is the genius inventor in this household?”
“You, but only because I haven’t been allowed to do anything about my patents yet since I’m a minor.”
“And that means you are not allowed to tinker with my shin guards,” Tony said and gave the kid a look that was totally intimidating when he tried to argue. The kid rolled his eyes again and switched the channels on the tv -- another report on Iron Man, go figure.
“So, does this mean you get to be a superhero? Wait, is this gonna be like the X-Men thing where every supervillain and their grandma wants to take you out? Because I don’t think you would like it very much if Magneto came knockin’, I’m just saying.”
“I--what? Magneto? You read way too many weird websites. What have I said about the internet?”
“I have already found the sex tapes and the sleazy naked pictures, Dad. Who do you think leaked them to the press?”
Tony stopped to stare at him, mostly because he was horrified, but also a little impressed. “You were twelve!”
“And pissed at you,” the kid shrugged. “Besides, mine were better.”
“Don’t remind me.” Practically child pornography too -- the kid had been just shy of sixteen and obviously (at least to Tony’s trained eye) higher than a fucking kite. Pepper had yelled at him for five hours and then refused to speak to either of them for a week. Tony really did not understand what part of this was his fault.
So that could have gone... better. The palladium poisoning was unfortunate, and of course the kid had found out inside of a week after coming to Malibu. Tony blamed his genes, he really did, the kid was too observant and too smart and not nearly self-absorbed enough. Well, maybe the kid was, but his friends -- all seven of them -- kept a tight rein on him and stopped him from exposing some of the worst Stark qualities. They’d been forced out of the house by SHIELD agents, and Tony had been very much amused at the Mexican stand-off between the kiddie gang and Nick Fury. Finally someone who could make Fury’s eye twitch even more than Tony could. Tony was impressed.
And then, the Avengers initiative. Which, as so many other things in Tony’s life, could have gone better.
Captain America was a dick.
“Uncle Tony!” The moment he stepped through the door, the feral one -- Andie -- jumped him and wrapped slim legs around his waist. She had grown out of the dungarees sometime around the age of 14 and was now dressed in a tiny leather skirt. She was also 16, Tony reminded himself sternly, and practically, almost related to him. They’d sworn a blood oath and everything.
“Hellion,” he greeted her and tried to put her down, but she clung stubbornly and grinned against his cheek. “Uncle’s developing a bad back and I’m blaming it on you.”
“Personally I blame you for spending so much time on it,” Andie said cheerfully and smacked a kiss against his ear. Tony grimaced and wondered if she made herself this obnoxious on purpose or if she really was this hopeless.
Another one of the kid’s friends, the big lumbering black one who had also grown into quite the dish -- sixteen, sixteen -- appeared in the doorway and rolled his eyes. With a minimum of effort on his part he separated Andie from Tony’s suit to Tony’s intense relief -- there was only so much skin a body could handle after all, and judging by the look Andie gave him, she knew it.
“Hello, Uncle Tony,” TJ said politely, although there was obviously no filial relation between either of them, although Tony wouldn’t have minded. TJ was one of the saner ones, although depressingly straight laced. Not even the kid had managed to ruffle his feathers good and proper, though not for lack of trying if the girls were to be believed. And with Andie? Well, you just never knew.
“I’m heading down to the workshop,” he told them, shrugging off his suit jacket. “If you need me, don’t call, unless we’re being invaded.”
“Us personally or the country?” Andie asked.
“Us. I don’t give a shit about the rest.”
“Good policy, Iron Man.”
Blasting AC/DC was always a valid life choice. Unfortunately good music also had a tendency to attract the kids like moths to a flame. He triple locked the doors, made JARVIS swear an oath to not open them for anyone, not even if with the power of eight pouts, and dove into the newest armor. The Mark VII was going to be so much better than the Mark VI, and he had really outdone himself there, in his humble opinion. Nothing like a little mortal peril to get the brain cells going.
He lost himself in the armor that he didn’t realize his lab had been invaded until the volume on She’s Got Balls was unexpectedly raised to eleven. Pepper and Rhodey, and somehow also Coulson, that little fucker, all managed to get in and lower the volume at the same time. The other direction only meant one thing.
“I told you not to let them in,” he sighed in JARVIS’ general direction and lowered the volume back to bearable levels again -- god, he really was getting old. .
“He bypassed me, Sir,” JARVIS said, and one day Tony really was going to install less emotion into him, if he kept on using that ridiculous tone between exasperation and fondness when talking about the kid.
The kid in question was perched on the work bench just beside Tony, looking like he had just rolled out of bed. Tony tried to remember a time when it had been that effortless to look sultry for him, but the dates kept slipping. Old.
“How did SHIELD go?” the kid asked, way too casually and Tony had a sneaking suspicion he had hacked the SHIELD database again.
“What have I told you about hacking government installations?” he said, batting at Dummy when he tried to move the circuit board in a very not desirable direction.
“Uh, don’t? Something? I wasn’t listening at the time. But, Dad.” The kid slid off the work bench and insinuated himself into Tony’s personal space. “Come on, tell me. Is it true? Was it really...?”
“No.” Tony was going to cut that line of questioning off right there. He had seen the kid’s spank bank and once was more than enough thank you.
“Daaaaaaad!” He had an impressive whine, though. Tony could almost see how Happy always folded like a cardhouse every time the kid pulled that out with the big Bambi eyes as backup.
“No, no, I’m not telling you anyth-- you do know that that stuff is classified right, I think I could actually get Nick Fury to beat me into a bloody pulp if I-- no, classified, I’m not. Anything. You, leave.”
The kid raised an eyebrow and had the stomach to look amused. “Huh, the flustered ramble. Haven’t heard that since you and Pepper broke up -- should have kept her, by the way, she could have been my mommy.” The kid smirked evilly, and Tony gave him a look.
“If she heard you say that, she would kill you,” he said and the smirk grew even bigger.
“What, you think I haven’t already told her? Daddy dearest, you do remember whose son I am, right?”
Tony almost managed to bite back the groan, but forced his attention back to the circuit board. “Well, whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong. Utterly, completely wrong. Fury outfoxed you.”
“Fury couldn’t outfox me if I had both hands tied behind my back,” the kid said, sounding snotty. “What’s up, Dad? Was Captain America mean to you?”
“Out.”
“Oh, my god, you actually did meet Captain America!” The kid’s eyes were the size of saucers. “Holy shit. Captain America? Really?” Whatever he saw on Tony’s face was apparently answer enough because he leaned back against the work bench like he was suddenly a little weak in the knees. Tony could relate, as much as he hated to admit it -- he had had a similar reaction to the news himself.
“No, I did not,” he said, not very convincingly. “Now, leave.”
The kid let out a huge breath. “Woooow,” he said, and he actually did look starry eyed. Tony didn’t know people could do that, for real. At least not without alcohol, and he had made damn sure that there was nothing of that in the house where the kid and his delinquent friends could get to it. Had made getting himself sozzled a little bit tricky, but... he’d rather not have a repeat of the hospital any time soon.
“Stop it,” he said instead, trying out a new tack. “You’re embarrassing yourself. I mean, I think they can see your fanboy crush from space -- oh, let’s pull up the satellites, see if I’m getting you on them.”
“First of all, that’s creepy. Second of all, I come by it honestly.”
Their eyes met over the circuit board and the kid raised his eyebrows by a fraction of an inch. Tony gave up. He put down the soldering iron for real this time and the kid lit up like a Christmas tree.
“Oh, my god,” he breathed.
“Yeah,” Tony said. “I. Yeah. Yeah, very. Yeah.”
“So he was...”
“Oh, yes, very. With the...” Tony made a gesture he would never have dared to repeat in front of Pepper, at least not without a drink or two beforehand.
“Oooohhh, and the eyes?”
“Also the eyes, yes.” Tony didn’t really want to think about the eyes that much, the feeling that Steve Rogers -- Captain fucking America -- had looked him over once, seen exactly what Tony was not, and found him wanting, but the kid looked ecstatic.
“Oh, my god,” he said again and Tony rolled his eyes.
“Don’t wet yourself.”
“Oh, like you didn’t need to change your suit after,” the kid said and his eyes were far too knowing. Tony wondered if he was this much of an open book to everyone who knew him. He hoped not -- he wanted some secrets to himself. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like his man crush -- very manly and not at all fanboyish, thank you -- on Captain America was going to be one of those secrets.
He looked down at the circuit board and felt something like a scowl flit over his face, but he managed to wrestle it back into place. Half of him wanted to viciously destroy something -- the kid’s hopes and dreams, for one, and the assumption he had that Captain America was a Nice Fellow, which he probably was, it was just Tony who was a dick and everyone involved knew it, but the kid was weird about Tony being insulted and it might... he might not like it, if Captain America went and did the same. On the other hand, Captain America. The kid had been as much in love with those stories as Tony had as a kid.
“Well, I have told you way too much already,” he said and the kid pouted. “Now, get out. Please. Working here.”
The kid sniffed. “Fine,” he said, like he didn’t care. “I’m gonna go tell the others about Captain America.”
“Do you have to?”
The kid’s brilliant smile was answer enough and something in Tony’s arc reactor region ached a little. He rubbed absentmindedly at the seam between metal and flesh, and the kid bounced out of the workshop like he was the one with the repulsor beams.
He poked at the circuit board and Dummy whirred at him inquisitively. Tony gave him an absentminded pat. He had made a resolution sometime around the time he’d gotten his new heart. He had started with the world, trying to weigh up his bad karma, but that had turned out to be much, much easier than the rest of his life. The drinking was in control -- kinda -- he wasn’t dating Pepper anymore, but they were on better terms now than they had ever been when they were sleeping together, and Tony had made a concerted effort there. He’d tried to be better to Rhodey even before the War Machine debacle. The kid was... the kid was the last piece of the puzzle. And he was proving the most difficult. In part because just looking at him made Tony more terrified than any supervillain or palladium poisoning. He saw himself in there, and it scared the living shit out of him.
He used to go on and on about legacy -- still did, to be honest, and it made the kid roll his eyes every time -- but it was much easier to be responsible for the mechanical legacy, the scientific legacy, than the flesh and blood kind. He tried, god knows, he tried. But not hard enough.
And now there was all this bullshit with the Avengers initiative. Iron Man: yes, Tony Stark: not recommended. Fucking fabulous. Nick Fury, Natasha, and now, even Steve Rogers, his childhood hero, had seen right through him to the sticky center. And Captain America was being a dick about it.
But Tony was nothing if not professional, whatever Pepper might say. He knew the suit inside out -- he knew weapons inside and out, and if Fury wanted an air craft carrier (“that flies, Stark”, and if Tony wasn’t mistaken, that was some bona fide lust in Fury’s eye there), he was getting a fucking aircraft carrier. No matter how much the rest of the team looked at him like he was an intruder into the Big Boys’ Club. Excuse you very fucking much, Tony invented the Boys’ Club, okay? Being sidelined was not in the cards -- and they wondered why he wasn’t a team player.
Also, Captain America did not improve upon getting to know him. Except that he did, of course, because he was Captain America. Actually, no, he was Steve Rogers, all-American perfection of humanity, etc. Steve was kind and smart and quietly funny and had a voice that hit Tony right in the gut, and the hands of an artist and a soldier, which should be an oxymoron but somehow wasn’t. He was good in a way Tony seriously hadn’t thought existed -- nobody could be that perfect, right? It just wasn’t possible for anyone to be gifted with that body, and at the same time being an all-around stand-up guy. And like all stand-up guys, Steve did the sensible thing and hated Tony on sight. Tony couldn’t really fault him for that, even though he did kind of wish for Steve to push him up against the nearest wall and take out his anger issues in a more... conductive manner. Tony had nothing against being used, especially not if it was Steve Rogers doing the using. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been there before and enjoyed it. Too bad that Steve was too stand-up for even that.
The kid and his buddies had taken to flocking Tony at dinner, asking him endless questions about the Avengers. They didn’t want any specifics, thankfully, because Tony really wasn’t sure how Fury would deal with the news that he had been revealing vital, governmental secrets to a bunch of minors, but they did want to know everything about Captain America, and Thor. Sunniva, the little blonde one that Tony had a reluctant fondness for, was all giddy about Thor, and for some reason that made the little gangbanger -- Draco -- that the kid had picked up at some point or another, scowl at the table like it had jumped up and slapped him. It was adorable. Also conductive, because he had known that there was something going on there. The kid rolled his eyes at him -- again, he was gonna strain them at this rate -- like he was the last one aboard the clue train on this one, which was entirely possible. Tony had important things going on, he couldn’t spend all his time paying attention to teenage romance. If he did, he’d watch The OC, or one of those Disney Channel atrocities with the laugh tracks.
Of course, Tony should have known that it was just a matter of time before the Avengers got wind of the kids. And by the Avengers, he meant Steve, and also possibly Thor. Fury and Natasha were both very much aware and had disapproved for all of five minutes before they’d actually met the kid, at which point the streetfighter half of the kid’s little gang had threatened to get a rumble out of Coulson, and the kid himself had chased Natasha away with a mocking, “You’re not my real mom!” Tony really needed to learn that particular skill of brattiness, because he couldn’t seem to get rid of her unless she wanted to.
In retrospect, it was possible that Tony should have warned the Avenger team what they were getting themselves into, but as it was, he just managed a quick, “Oh, yeah, and don’t step on the kids!” before the kids were breathlessly spilling into the living room, Sunniva and Andie dodging in to kiss Tony’s whiskered cheeks.
“Uncle Tony!” Alex -- the blue-haired one with the questionable taste in fashion -- said, peeking over a pair of sunglasses that was blatantly the kid’s. “You got this for us? Man, you’re the best uncle ever.”
“Heel,” Tony told him pointedly and Alex wagged his eyebrows in Tony’s direction.
Natasha looked like she had stepped into a torture chamber, but she put on her best stoic face and just grabbed her bag tighter. Clint didn’t manage the stoic, he was clasping the bag that Tony knew for a fact contained his best bow with a look on his face like he was an inch away from pulling it out with extreme prejudice. Steve looked like he had been hit over the head by a two-by-four.
“You have kids?” he said and Tony sighed.
“No. Kid, singular. That one, over there.” He waved in the kid’s general direction. “These are just the ones that I got in the bargain.”
“I have a name you know,” the kid said, and stretched out his hand to Steve with a charming smile. “Shea Stark. Pleased to meet you. Did they really find you in a block of ice?”
“And he has his father’s people skills,” Bruce muttered and Tony considered revoking his not-quite invitation on the grounds that they were a bad influence on his kid. He had tried pulling that one with Fury, but Fury had just blinked at him menacingly. Tony could not see anything good coming out of having Thor or Clint in the same house as his very impressionable and also altogether too smart son.
“I. Pleased to meet you too,” Steve said, shaking the kid’s hand and the kid grinned even harder. He sent a meaningful glance, just the one Tony had learned to fear, at the one of them that was his first and foremost sidekick -- a raggedy teen called Sirius, of all things. Beware them all of the Harry Potter generation, Tony thought. Say what you wanted about the Twilight people, they at least didn’t name their kids things like Bilius and Bathilda and pretended that was okay.
The glance seemed to propagate around the room -- Tony swore those kids could communicate telepathically -- and he squared his shoulders waiting for the inevitable fall-out. The kids did not fail to deliver, and of course Andie was the first missile.
“Captain America,” she purred, tiny and blackhaired and deadly in way too little leather, relishing every syllable. “Why, Captain, I think you’re even bigger than in the pictures.”
Steve’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch and Andie smiled a predatory smile. Tony wanted to tell him that the kids had an uncanny knack of smelling fear, but too late for that now, he guessed.
“Well!” he said loudly, not wanting to witness the terrible train wreck in progress. “Just grab a room, JARVIS will tell you if it’s occupied, and uh... yeah, best of luck.”
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll all have fun,” the kid purred and Natasha looked about ready to throw her bags at him and flee. Tony turned tail and retreated to the workshop.
A few hours later the kid came bumping down the stairs and leaned against Tony’s work bench with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Captain America,” he pronounced, “is a dick.”
Tony blinked at his gauntlet, then looked up at the kid. “No, he isn’t.”
“Yes, he is,” the kid said firmly and no matter what Tony did to try to squeeze some kind of explanation out of him, he stayed stubbornly silent on the matter. He did give Tony some ideas on improved gauntlet flexibility, however, before Tony shooed him away and set him to build some new robots or something. Not long after that, his entire workshop was filled with sulky teen. Even Andie, usually perpetually cheerful, was scowling. Draco, who was normally the scowliest of the bunch, looked like he could send off a couple of thunderbolts without the help of Mjölnir. Tony had no idea what had gotten them into high dudgeon, but he really hoped Clint hadn’t actually shot at any of them. Fury would be really pissed.
The answer to that question became abundantly clear a few days after, when Tony had finally managed to shoo the kids out of the workshop to get some peace. He was so deep into the armor schematics that he barely registered the tap-tap-tapping on the glass partition of the door. When he looked up, Steve smiled and waved at him and Tony blinked.
“JARVIS...” he said slowly, and the AI answered with a crisp, “Right away, Sir,” and opened the door.
Steve looked gratified to be let in and Tony blinked again. Weird.
“Hi, Tony,” Steve said and Tony thought this might be the first time Steve’s actually called him by his first name.
“Steve,” he said cautiously. “What’s up? The kids haven’t got back, have they? Are they torturing you? Has Clint started target practicing in the living room again? Oh, wait, no, don’t tell me, it’s the Hulk, I knew I should have reinforced the couch with something sturdier than steel, but the kids were planning on the movie night and I didn’t have the time to get it done properly, and--”
“No, no,” Steve held up a hand to stall Tony’s rambling and Tony bit the inside of his cheek to stay quiet. Steve looked amused though, and a little sheepish, Tony thought.
“Then what?” he asked and Steve squirmed.
“Well,” he began. “I would. Well, I would like to apologize.”
Tony blinked.
“What.”
“Well, I realized I hadn’t exactly been treating you fairly,” Steve said, terribly earnestly. “I mean, we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot in the first place, and I blame myself for that. You just look a lot like... well, nevermind. And it hit me that I hadn’t apologized for it.”
Tony wondered for a brief moment if he had gone insane. Maybe some villain or other had let out some toxin that made you hallucinate. Tony would not put it past Doom.
“What?”
Steve frowned. “Tony, are you alright?”
“I. What. You.” Tony shook his head a little. “Are you apologizing for me being a dick?” he finally had to ask and Steve looked baffled for a hot minute before he stared at Tony with something that could best be described as horror.
“No!” he said. “I just. I was talking to Shea, and, well, it’s not like any of us have been entirely fair to you.”
“Oh, god.” The kid. What the fuck had the kid gone and said now? “What the hell did the kid tell you?”
Steve looked confused. “Nothing much. He was telling me about you, about your family, for lack of a better word.” He paused for a minute and then looked a little sheepish, even as a small grin curled his mouth. “Well, he also said that if I didn’t start treating you better, he was going to scalp me. Apparently he’s a little protective of his father.”
Tony closed his eyes and slumped forward, rubbing his face with his hands. Great, wonderful. His son, the biggest pain in the ass ever born.
“Listen, Steve,” he said wearily. “I’m sorry for whatever--” the kid, “whatever Shea has told you, but I can assure you, you have nothing to apologize for, okay? Okay. Now can we never, ever have this conversation again, please?”
“But I do,” said Steve, and if he got any more earnest Tony would need protective gear. “I really haven’t been fair to you at all, Tony, none of us have. You do so much for us that you never expect to be thanked for, and you’re a real asset in the field.”
“Whoa, I do expect to be thanked, thank you,” Tony said, because it was the only part of what Steve just said that didn’t make him utterly confused. “I expect to be thanked thoroughly and at length by all my teammates and also Fury, okay, he is my bitch, and it might not show but he totally is, and I am going to make him his air craft thing so that makes him even more my bitch, and I expect him to grovel before I let him have it, so don’t make me out to be an altruist, okay?”
Tony only managed to shut himself up by pure force of will. Steve was smiling at him, a strange little smile that looked an awful lot like fondness.
“Alright, Tony,” he said. “Whatever you say.”
It took Tony fifteen minutes to find the kid and another fifteen to corner him. The kid just gave him a narrow-eyed look and Tony fisted his hands on his hips and tried to look threatening.
“What the hell,” he said and it wasn’t a question.
The kid pouted. For some unholy reason, he was wearing glittery lipgloss. “What?”
“Don’t what me, you know what. You know exactly of which what I refer, now what the hell?”
“You make no sense.”
“Neither do you! Captain America just came into my workshop and apologized to me!”
“Ohhh,” the kid nodded. “That what. Yeah, I was hoping he would.”
Tony stared at him and the kid shrugged. “He was a dick to you, he as much said so himself, and you’ve got a total crush on him, and frankly, I would not mind having two daddies, so...”
Tony buried his face in his hands. “You did not just say that. I didn’t hear that.”
He heard the grin, even before the kid started speaking. Well, singing. “Steve and Dad-dy, sittin’ in a tree...”
“Oh, my god, get out of my sight.”
The K-I-S-S-I-N-G echoed all over the stairwell when the kid bounced off and out the door. Tony really hoped no one would put two and two together, but the universe hated him, so they probably would.
Two daddies. Jesus, the kid was out of his mind. And maybe Tony could have dealt with that if it weren’t for the fact that Steve existed and Tony fucking ached for him -- and sometimes, just sometimes, when Steve gave him a private smile or invaded his workshop for no good reason, Tony thought maybe Steve wanted him back. But, a) that was fucking crazy, b) christ, way to be masochistic there, Stark, and c) Steve was really, really straight. Really, really. Soldier and everything. From the 40s.
Then of course, Steve saved his life, and Tony saved his, once, twice, a dozen times. If it went on like this he might actually have to commit to this Avengers thing. It was... it was nice, kinda. With the Avengers in the mansion, he had some extra buffers in case the kids started acting crazy, especially now that Pepper couldn’t be around all the time. It was almost as if they were -- and he might just break out in hives from the domesticity of it all -- one big happy family. Well, one big dysfunctional family, anyway. Tony was rather certain that no unit with him in it could be described as anything but dysfunctional. Came from a life long ambition to drive everyone around him insane.
Anyway, that led to a conversation I had with Steph about a week ago about why I find Tony so interesting and both she and Bee were like, "Well, fucking DUH, he's like every character you've ever written, up to and including the emotional trauma." And, well, yeah. Especially Shea (the main character of Pretty Little Monsters, the '08 NaNo neurotic breakdown, if you recall) is kind of like a mini-Tony, only not so lonely, and what if Shea was actually Tony's son, wouldn't that be hilarious? And then Steph told me to WRITE IT, and she was very forceful about it, so here we are.
Not!fic about Tony Stark in possession of a child. Lot's of rambling, OCs and epithets because I couldn't for the life of me get Tony Stark to actually pronounce Shea's name. It was supposed to be longer and maybe involve plot, and also Steve/Tony, but I got 5k in and gave up so it kind of peters out into nowhere. Pre-slash, kidfic, mention of drug and alcohol abuse in a rather glib, I-Am-Dealing-With-This-And-Spectacularly-Failing kind of way. Aggressively unbetaed. I apologize in advance.
Tony Stark was many things. A genius, certainly. A playboy, a wonderchild, a pain in the ass, a drunk, a narcissist, sure, he could admit that. In possession of filial feeling was not one of them. Howard hadn’t been the best of fathers, and it was really a testament of Tony’s own skills of denial that he understated it that much, and Tony wasn’t really in the habit of caring for other people.
So when an ex-- not even girlfriend really, more like an ex-one-night-stand, or an ex-seven-minutes-in-heaven-stand, really, showed up on his doorstep with a bundle she claimed was his and told him to take care of his own fucking messes, he was somewhat unprepared. He had drunk himself into a stupor for a week after that, and Pepper had spent it hating his guts. When he came back to it, the baby -- a tiny, blackhaired tot with an impressively unamused green stare -- had been whisked away to parts unknown and Pepper was threatening to tender her resignation. Tony had managed to convince her to stay, if for nothing else than that you couldn’t possibly leave Tony Stark (especially that Tony Stark, the Tony Stark who was still shy of his thirtieth birthday and didn’t have a responsible bone in his body, that Tony Stark) with a minor and imagine it would end well.
The kid was his, though. Tony had run so many tests on the kid, it was amazing he didn’t have permanent needle marks all over his tiny, chubby arms, but he was certain. The kid was his, 50% Stark and a 100% trouble.
It was perhaps redundant to explain that he and the kid hadn’t had the best of times. Tony was a neglectful father at his best, the kid was an unholy terror before he could even walk, and he didn’t trust Tony at all. Respect, even less. Tony had spent the following years guiltily hating him -- he was just a kid, after all -- but he was also... well, Tony’s kid, a Stark, a pain in the ass, a terror beyond knowing, a judge, jury and executioner when it came to Tony’s every fault. And worst of all, he had proved everyone right. Tony was a shitty father -- possibly worse than Howard, and didn’t that sting? -- and this kid (his son) never failed to demonstrate it. Tony spent as much time as possible avoiding him.
The kid was impossible to avoid, though, because the moment he was old enough to understand, he was also old enough to be underfoot. And he had a way to be underfoot like nobody Tony had ever known. He talked his way into JARVIS’s graces, Pepper adored him, though she’d never say it, Happy thought he was adorable, and Rhodey took the kid to baseball games and generally acted like an awesome uncle. It made Tony feel even worse, even more like a failure.
Maybe it would have been easier if the kid hadn’t also had about a gazillion friends. They were all over the damn place, all eight of them, and Tony couldn’t for the life of him remember when he had this many friends -- seven best friends, who did that? -- but the most annoying one was a half feral girl he had all but forced Tony to adopt.
And then had come the Drug Debacle, and Tony had felt Pepper’s disappointed looks from across the country. He really preferred not to think about that, if at all possible. He had no idea a 16 year old boy could look as small as the kid had done there. It had torn at Tony’s heart like nothing else had ever done, and he didn’t know what to do with those feelings. So he had run, all the way to Malibu. The kid had let him be, for once.
Then was Afghanistan and the artificial heart, and all of a sudden his Malibu place was full of kid. Several kids, actually, including the feral one Tony pretended he didn’t feel any affection for whatsoever.
Which led up to the current situation, with Iron Man. The kid had taken one look at the headlines, then glared at Tony -- both of them still uncomfortably underweight from their various misadventures -- and said, “Seriously, Dad, that’s just a shitty costume. Red and gold? What were you thinking?”
Tony had no idea how the kid figured it out that fast.
“It’s gold titanium alloy and hot rod red, thank you,” he said with as much dignity as he could muster and had gone to pour himself a drink. The kid had rolled his eyes.
“It’s still ugly as fuck,” he pronounced firmly and Tony’s shoulders twitched irritably. “Also, I have no idea how you move with those shin covers. I could design something better in my sleep. I think I have.”
“Look, who is the genius inventor in this household?”
“You, but only because I haven’t been allowed to do anything about my patents yet since I’m a minor.”
“And that means you are not allowed to tinker with my shin guards,” Tony said and gave the kid a look that was totally intimidating when he tried to argue. The kid rolled his eyes again and switched the channels on the tv -- another report on Iron Man, go figure.
“So, does this mean you get to be a superhero? Wait, is this gonna be like the X-Men thing where every supervillain and their grandma wants to take you out? Because I don’t think you would like it very much if Magneto came knockin’, I’m just saying.”
“I--what? Magneto? You read way too many weird websites. What have I said about the internet?”
“I have already found the sex tapes and the sleazy naked pictures, Dad. Who do you think leaked them to the press?”
Tony stopped to stare at him, mostly because he was horrified, but also a little impressed. “You were twelve!”
“And pissed at you,” the kid shrugged. “Besides, mine were better.”
“Don’t remind me.” Practically child pornography too -- the kid had been just shy of sixteen and obviously (at least to Tony’s trained eye) higher than a fucking kite. Pepper had yelled at him for five hours and then refused to speak to either of them for a week. Tony really did not understand what part of this was his fault.
So that could have gone... better. The palladium poisoning was unfortunate, and of course the kid had found out inside of a week after coming to Malibu. Tony blamed his genes, he really did, the kid was too observant and too smart and not nearly self-absorbed enough. Well, maybe the kid was, but his friends -- all seven of them -- kept a tight rein on him and stopped him from exposing some of the worst Stark qualities. They’d been forced out of the house by SHIELD agents, and Tony had been very much amused at the Mexican stand-off between the kiddie gang and Nick Fury. Finally someone who could make Fury’s eye twitch even more than Tony could. Tony was impressed.
And then, the Avengers initiative. Which, as so many other things in Tony’s life, could have gone better.
Captain America was a dick.
“Uncle Tony!” The moment he stepped through the door, the feral one -- Andie -- jumped him and wrapped slim legs around his waist. She had grown out of the dungarees sometime around the age of 14 and was now dressed in a tiny leather skirt. She was also 16, Tony reminded himself sternly, and practically, almost related to him. They’d sworn a blood oath and everything.
“Hellion,” he greeted her and tried to put her down, but she clung stubbornly and grinned against his cheek. “Uncle’s developing a bad back and I’m blaming it on you.”
“Personally I blame you for spending so much time on it,” Andie said cheerfully and smacked a kiss against his ear. Tony grimaced and wondered if she made herself this obnoxious on purpose or if she really was this hopeless.
Another one of the kid’s friends, the big lumbering black one who had also grown into quite the dish -- sixteen, sixteen -- appeared in the doorway and rolled his eyes. With a minimum of effort on his part he separated Andie from Tony’s suit to Tony’s intense relief -- there was only so much skin a body could handle after all, and judging by the look Andie gave him, she knew it.
“Hello, Uncle Tony,” TJ said politely, although there was obviously no filial relation between either of them, although Tony wouldn’t have minded. TJ was one of the saner ones, although depressingly straight laced. Not even the kid had managed to ruffle his feathers good and proper, though not for lack of trying if the girls were to be believed. And with Andie? Well, you just never knew.
“I’m heading down to the workshop,” he told them, shrugging off his suit jacket. “If you need me, don’t call, unless we’re being invaded.”
“Us personally or the country?” Andie asked.
“Us. I don’t give a shit about the rest.”
“Good policy, Iron Man.”
Blasting AC/DC was always a valid life choice. Unfortunately good music also had a tendency to attract the kids like moths to a flame. He triple locked the doors, made JARVIS swear an oath to not open them for anyone, not even if with the power of eight pouts, and dove into the newest armor. The Mark VII was going to be so much better than the Mark VI, and he had really outdone himself there, in his humble opinion. Nothing like a little mortal peril to get the brain cells going.
He lost himself in the armor that he didn’t realize his lab had been invaded until the volume on She’s Got Balls was unexpectedly raised to eleven. Pepper and Rhodey, and somehow also Coulson, that little fucker, all managed to get in and lower the volume at the same time. The other direction only meant one thing.
“I told you not to let them in,” he sighed in JARVIS’ general direction and lowered the volume back to bearable levels again -- god, he really was getting old. .
“He bypassed me, Sir,” JARVIS said, and one day Tony really was going to install less emotion into him, if he kept on using that ridiculous tone between exasperation and fondness when talking about the kid.
The kid in question was perched on the work bench just beside Tony, looking like he had just rolled out of bed. Tony tried to remember a time when it had been that effortless to look sultry for him, but the dates kept slipping. Old.
“How did SHIELD go?” the kid asked, way too casually and Tony had a sneaking suspicion he had hacked the SHIELD database again.
“What have I told you about hacking government installations?” he said, batting at Dummy when he tried to move the circuit board in a very not desirable direction.
“Uh, don’t? Something? I wasn’t listening at the time. But, Dad.” The kid slid off the work bench and insinuated himself into Tony’s personal space. “Come on, tell me. Is it true? Was it really...?”
“No.” Tony was going to cut that line of questioning off right there. He had seen the kid’s spank bank and once was more than enough thank you.
“Daaaaaaad!” He had an impressive whine, though. Tony could almost see how Happy always folded like a cardhouse every time the kid pulled that out with the big Bambi eyes as backup.
“No, no, I’m not telling you anyth-- you do know that that stuff is classified right, I think I could actually get Nick Fury to beat me into a bloody pulp if I-- no, classified, I’m not. Anything. You, leave.”
The kid raised an eyebrow and had the stomach to look amused. “Huh, the flustered ramble. Haven’t heard that since you and Pepper broke up -- should have kept her, by the way, she could have been my mommy.” The kid smirked evilly, and Tony gave him a look.
“If she heard you say that, she would kill you,” he said and the smirk grew even bigger.
“What, you think I haven’t already told her? Daddy dearest, you do remember whose son I am, right?”
Tony almost managed to bite back the groan, but forced his attention back to the circuit board. “Well, whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong. Utterly, completely wrong. Fury outfoxed you.”
“Fury couldn’t outfox me if I had both hands tied behind my back,” the kid said, sounding snotty. “What’s up, Dad? Was Captain America mean to you?”
“Out.”
“Oh, my god, you actually did meet Captain America!” The kid’s eyes were the size of saucers. “Holy shit. Captain America? Really?” Whatever he saw on Tony’s face was apparently answer enough because he leaned back against the work bench like he was suddenly a little weak in the knees. Tony could relate, as much as he hated to admit it -- he had had a similar reaction to the news himself.
“No, I did not,” he said, not very convincingly. “Now, leave.”
The kid let out a huge breath. “Woooow,” he said, and he actually did look starry eyed. Tony didn’t know people could do that, for real. At least not without alcohol, and he had made damn sure that there was nothing of that in the house where the kid and his delinquent friends could get to it. Had made getting himself sozzled a little bit tricky, but... he’d rather not have a repeat of the hospital any time soon.
“Stop it,” he said instead, trying out a new tack. “You’re embarrassing yourself. I mean, I think they can see your fanboy crush from space -- oh, let’s pull up the satellites, see if I’m getting you on them.”
“First of all, that’s creepy. Second of all, I come by it honestly.”
Their eyes met over the circuit board and the kid raised his eyebrows by a fraction of an inch. Tony gave up. He put down the soldering iron for real this time and the kid lit up like a Christmas tree.
“Oh, my god,” he breathed.
“Yeah,” Tony said. “I. Yeah. Yeah, very. Yeah.”
“So he was...”
“Oh, yes, very. With the...” Tony made a gesture he would never have dared to repeat in front of Pepper, at least not without a drink or two beforehand.
“Oooohhh, and the eyes?”
“Also the eyes, yes.” Tony didn’t really want to think about the eyes that much, the feeling that Steve Rogers -- Captain fucking America -- had looked him over once, seen exactly what Tony was not, and found him wanting, but the kid looked ecstatic.
“Oh, my god,” he said again and Tony rolled his eyes.
“Don’t wet yourself.”
“Oh, like you didn’t need to change your suit after,” the kid said and his eyes were far too knowing. Tony wondered if he was this much of an open book to everyone who knew him. He hoped not -- he wanted some secrets to himself. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like his man crush -- very manly and not at all fanboyish, thank you -- on Captain America was going to be one of those secrets.
He looked down at the circuit board and felt something like a scowl flit over his face, but he managed to wrestle it back into place. Half of him wanted to viciously destroy something -- the kid’s hopes and dreams, for one, and the assumption he had that Captain America was a Nice Fellow, which he probably was, it was just Tony who was a dick and everyone involved knew it, but the kid was weird about Tony being insulted and it might... he might not like it, if Captain America went and did the same. On the other hand, Captain America. The kid had been as much in love with those stories as Tony had as a kid.
“Well, I have told you way too much already,” he said and the kid pouted. “Now, get out. Please. Working here.”
The kid sniffed. “Fine,” he said, like he didn’t care. “I’m gonna go tell the others about Captain America.”
“Do you have to?”
The kid’s brilliant smile was answer enough and something in Tony’s arc reactor region ached a little. He rubbed absentmindedly at the seam between metal and flesh, and the kid bounced out of the workshop like he was the one with the repulsor beams.
He poked at the circuit board and Dummy whirred at him inquisitively. Tony gave him an absentminded pat. He had made a resolution sometime around the time he’d gotten his new heart. He had started with the world, trying to weigh up his bad karma, but that had turned out to be much, much easier than the rest of his life. The drinking was in control -- kinda -- he wasn’t dating Pepper anymore, but they were on better terms now than they had ever been when they were sleeping together, and Tony had made a concerted effort there. He’d tried to be better to Rhodey even before the War Machine debacle. The kid was... the kid was the last piece of the puzzle. And he was proving the most difficult. In part because just looking at him made Tony more terrified than any supervillain or palladium poisoning. He saw himself in there, and it scared the living shit out of him.
He used to go on and on about legacy -- still did, to be honest, and it made the kid roll his eyes every time -- but it was much easier to be responsible for the mechanical legacy, the scientific legacy, than the flesh and blood kind. He tried, god knows, he tried. But not hard enough.
And now there was all this bullshit with the Avengers initiative. Iron Man: yes, Tony Stark: not recommended. Fucking fabulous. Nick Fury, Natasha, and now, even Steve Rogers, his childhood hero, had seen right through him to the sticky center. And Captain America was being a dick about it.
But Tony was nothing if not professional, whatever Pepper might say. He knew the suit inside out -- he knew weapons inside and out, and if Fury wanted an air craft carrier (“that flies, Stark”, and if Tony wasn’t mistaken, that was some bona fide lust in Fury’s eye there), he was getting a fucking aircraft carrier. No matter how much the rest of the team looked at him like he was an intruder into the Big Boys’ Club. Excuse you very fucking much, Tony invented the Boys’ Club, okay? Being sidelined was not in the cards -- and they wondered why he wasn’t a team player.
Also, Captain America did not improve upon getting to know him. Except that he did, of course, because he was Captain America. Actually, no, he was Steve Rogers, all-American perfection of humanity, etc. Steve was kind and smart and quietly funny and had a voice that hit Tony right in the gut, and the hands of an artist and a soldier, which should be an oxymoron but somehow wasn’t. He was good in a way Tony seriously hadn’t thought existed -- nobody could be that perfect, right? It just wasn’t possible for anyone to be gifted with that body, and at the same time being an all-around stand-up guy. And like all stand-up guys, Steve did the sensible thing and hated Tony on sight. Tony couldn’t really fault him for that, even though he did kind of wish for Steve to push him up against the nearest wall and take out his anger issues in a more... conductive manner. Tony had nothing against being used, especially not if it was Steve Rogers doing the using. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been there before and enjoyed it. Too bad that Steve was too stand-up for even that.
The kid and his buddies had taken to flocking Tony at dinner, asking him endless questions about the Avengers. They didn’t want any specifics, thankfully, because Tony really wasn’t sure how Fury would deal with the news that he had been revealing vital, governmental secrets to a bunch of minors, but they did want to know everything about Captain America, and Thor. Sunniva, the little blonde one that Tony had a reluctant fondness for, was all giddy about Thor, and for some reason that made the little gangbanger -- Draco -- that the kid had picked up at some point or another, scowl at the table like it had jumped up and slapped him. It was adorable. Also conductive, because he had known that there was something going on there. The kid rolled his eyes at him -- again, he was gonna strain them at this rate -- like he was the last one aboard the clue train on this one, which was entirely possible. Tony had important things going on, he couldn’t spend all his time paying attention to teenage romance. If he did, he’d watch The OC, or one of those Disney Channel atrocities with the laugh tracks.
Of course, Tony should have known that it was just a matter of time before the Avengers got wind of the kids. And by the Avengers, he meant Steve, and also possibly Thor. Fury and Natasha were both very much aware and had disapproved for all of five minutes before they’d actually met the kid, at which point the streetfighter half of the kid’s little gang had threatened to get a rumble out of Coulson, and the kid himself had chased Natasha away with a mocking, “You’re not my real mom!” Tony really needed to learn that particular skill of brattiness, because he couldn’t seem to get rid of her unless she wanted to.
In retrospect, it was possible that Tony should have warned the Avenger team what they were getting themselves into, but as it was, he just managed a quick, “Oh, yeah, and don’t step on the kids!” before the kids were breathlessly spilling into the living room, Sunniva and Andie dodging in to kiss Tony’s whiskered cheeks.
“Uncle Tony!” Alex -- the blue-haired one with the questionable taste in fashion -- said, peeking over a pair of sunglasses that was blatantly the kid’s. “You got this for us? Man, you’re the best uncle ever.”
“Heel,” Tony told him pointedly and Alex wagged his eyebrows in Tony’s direction.
Natasha looked like she had stepped into a torture chamber, but she put on her best stoic face and just grabbed her bag tighter. Clint didn’t manage the stoic, he was clasping the bag that Tony knew for a fact contained his best bow with a look on his face like he was an inch away from pulling it out with extreme prejudice. Steve looked like he had been hit over the head by a two-by-four.
“You have kids?” he said and Tony sighed.
“No. Kid, singular. That one, over there.” He waved in the kid’s general direction. “These are just the ones that I got in the bargain.”
“I have a name you know,” the kid said, and stretched out his hand to Steve with a charming smile. “Shea Stark. Pleased to meet you. Did they really find you in a block of ice?”
“And he has his father’s people skills,” Bruce muttered and Tony considered revoking his not-quite invitation on the grounds that they were a bad influence on his kid. He had tried pulling that one with Fury, but Fury had just blinked at him menacingly. Tony could not see anything good coming out of having Thor or Clint in the same house as his very impressionable and also altogether too smart son.
“I. Pleased to meet you too,” Steve said, shaking the kid’s hand and the kid grinned even harder. He sent a meaningful glance, just the one Tony had learned to fear, at the one of them that was his first and foremost sidekick -- a raggedy teen called Sirius, of all things. Beware them all of the Harry Potter generation, Tony thought. Say what you wanted about the Twilight people, they at least didn’t name their kids things like Bilius and Bathilda and pretended that was okay.
The glance seemed to propagate around the room -- Tony swore those kids could communicate telepathically -- and he squared his shoulders waiting for the inevitable fall-out. The kids did not fail to deliver, and of course Andie was the first missile.
“Captain America,” she purred, tiny and blackhaired and deadly in way too little leather, relishing every syllable. “Why, Captain, I think you’re even bigger than in the pictures.”
Steve’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch and Andie smiled a predatory smile. Tony wanted to tell him that the kids had an uncanny knack of smelling fear, but too late for that now, he guessed.
“Well!” he said loudly, not wanting to witness the terrible train wreck in progress. “Just grab a room, JARVIS will tell you if it’s occupied, and uh... yeah, best of luck.”
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll all have fun,” the kid purred and Natasha looked about ready to throw her bags at him and flee. Tony turned tail and retreated to the workshop.
A few hours later the kid came bumping down the stairs and leaned against Tony’s work bench with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Captain America,” he pronounced, “is a dick.”
Tony blinked at his gauntlet, then looked up at the kid. “No, he isn’t.”
“Yes, he is,” the kid said firmly and no matter what Tony did to try to squeeze some kind of explanation out of him, he stayed stubbornly silent on the matter. He did give Tony some ideas on improved gauntlet flexibility, however, before Tony shooed him away and set him to build some new robots or something. Not long after that, his entire workshop was filled with sulky teen. Even Andie, usually perpetually cheerful, was scowling. Draco, who was normally the scowliest of the bunch, looked like he could send off a couple of thunderbolts without the help of Mjölnir. Tony had no idea what had gotten them into high dudgeon, but he really hoped Clint hadn’t actually shot at any of them. Fury would be really pissed.
The answer to that question became abundantly clear a few days after, when Tony had finally managed to shoo the kids out of the workshop to get some peace. He was so deep into the armor schematics that he barely registered the tap-tap-tapping on the glass partition of the door. When he looked up, Steve smiled and waved at him and Tony blinked.
“JARVIS...” he said slowly, and the AI answered with a crisp, “Right away, Sir,” and opened the door.
Steve looked gratified to be let in and Tony blinked again. Weird.
“Hi, Tony,” Steve said and Tony thought this might be the first time Steve’s actually called him by his first name.
“Steve,” he said cautiously. “What’s up? The kids haven’t got back, have they? Are they torturing you? Has Clint started target practicing in the living room again? Oh, wait, no, don’t tell me, it’s the Hulk, I knew I should have reinforced the couch with something sturdier than steel, but the kids were planning on the movie night and I didn’t have the time to get it done properly, and--”
“No, no,” Steve held up a hand to stall Tony’s rambling and Tony bit the inside of his cheek to stay quiet. Steve looked amused though, and a little sheepish, Tony thought.
“Then what?” he asked and Steve squirmed.
“Well,” he began. “I would. Well, I would like to apologize.”
Tony blinked.
“What.”
“Well, I realized I hadn’t exactly been treating you fairly,” Steve said, terribly earnestly. “I mean, we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot in the first place, and I blame myself for that. You just look a lot like... well, nevermind. And it hit me that I hadn’t apologized for it.”
Tony wondered for a brief moment if he had gone insane. Maybe some villain or other had let out some toxin that made you hallucinate. Tony would not put it past Doom.
“What?”
Steve frowned. “Tony, are you alright?”
“I. What. You.” Tony shook his head a little. “Are you apologizing for me being a dick?” he finally had to ask and Steve looked baffled for a hot minute before he stared at Tony with something that could best be described as horror.
“No!” he said. “I just. I was talking to Shea, and, well, it’s not like any of us have been entirely fair to you.”
“Oh, god.” The kid. What the fuck had the kid gone and said now? “What the hell did the kid tell you?”
Steve looked confused. “Nothing much. He was telling me about you, about your family, for lack of a better word.” He paused for a minute and then looked a little sheepish, even as a small grin curled his mouth. “Well, he also said that if I didn’t start treating you better, he was going to scalp me. Apparently he’s a little protective of his father.”
Tony closed his eyes and slumped forward, rubbing his face with his hands. Great, wonderful. His son, the biggest pain in the ass ever born.
“Listen, Steve,” he said wearily. “I’m sorry for whatever--” the kid, “whatever Shea has told you, but I can assure you, you have nothing to apologize for, okay? Okay. Now can we never, ever have this conversation again, please?”
“But I do,” said Steve, and if he got any more earnest Tony would need protective gear. “I really haven’t been fair to you at all, Tony, none of us have. You do so much for us that you never expect to be thanked for, and you’re a real asset in the field.”
“Whoa, I do expect to be thanked, thank you,” Tony said, because it was the only part of what Steve just said that didn’t make him utterly confused. “I expect to be thanked thoroughly and at length by all my teammates and also Fury, okay, he is my bitch, and it might not show but he totally is, and I am going to make him his air craft thing so that makes him even more my bitch, and I expect him to grovel before I let him have it, so don’t make me out to be an altruist, okay?”
Tony only managed to shut himself up by pure force of will. Steve was smiling at him, a strange little smile that looked an awful lot like fondness.
“Alright, Tony,” he said. “Whatever you say.”
It took Tony fifteen minutes to find the kid and another fifteen to corner him. The kid just gave him a narrow-eyed look and Tony fisted his hands on his hips and tried to look threatening.
“What the hell,” he said and it wasn’t a question.
The kid pouted. For some unholy reason, he was wearing glittery lipgloss. “What?”
“Don’t what me, you know what. You know exactly of which what I refer, now what the hell?”
“You make no sense.”
“Neither do you! Captain America just came into my workshop and apologized to me!”
“Ohhh,” the kid nodded. “That what. Yeah, I was hoping he would.”
Tony stared at him and the kid shrugged. “He was a dick to you, he as much said so himself, and you’ve got a total crush on him, and frankly, I would not mind having two daddies, so...”
Tony buried his face in his hands. “You did not just say that. I didn’t hear that.”
He heard the grin, even before the kid started speaking. Well, singing. “Steve and Dad-dy, sittin’ in a tree...”
“Oh, my god, get out of my sight.”
The K-I-S-S-I-N-G echoed all over the stairwell when the kid bounced off and out the door. Tony really hoped no one would put two and two together, but the universe hated him, so they probably would.
Two daddies. Jesus, the kid was out of his mind. And maybe Tony could have dealt with that if it weren’t for the fact that Steve existed and Tony fucking ached for him -- and sometimes, just sometimes, when Steve gave him a private smile or invaded his workshop for no good reason, Tony thought maybe Steve wanted him back. But, a) that was fucking crazy, b) christ, way to be masochistic there, Stark, and c) Steve was really, really straight. Really, really. Soldier and everything. From the 40s.
Then of course, Steve saved his life, and Tony saved his, once, twice, a dozen times. If it went on like this he might actually have to commit to this Avengers thing. It was... it was nice, kinda. With the Avengers in the mansion, he had some extra buffers in case the kids started acting crazy, especially now that Pepper couldn’t be around all the time. It was almost as if they were -- and he might just break out in hives from the domesticity of it all -- one big happy family. Well, one big dysfunctional family, anyway. Tony was rather certain that no unit with him in it could be described as anything but dysfunctional. Came from a life long ambition to drive everyone around him insane.